


solatium

by asakami



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/F, Infidelity, dark!Anna, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23170030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asakami/pseuds/asakami
Summary: “When I want something, I always, always get it,” Anna whispers into his ear. “Oh, and that includes your wife.”In which Anna sees no difference between guilt and love.
Relationships: Anna/Elsa (Disney), minor Hans/Elsa, minor Kristoff/Anna (not really)
Comments: 71
Kudos: 257





	1. velle

**Author's Note:**

> I guess i should warn that anna is a huge bitch in this one, so turn away if that's not your thing.

She slips out of bed, out of the woman’s arms, making sure to be gentle and quiet enough so that she wouldn’t wake her as she heads for the washroom. It’s been such a long day – the associates wouldn’t let her go before she personally laid out every detail of the contracts; future projects were put on hold because of the hassle, and, most frustratingly, the air ventilation system malfunctioned in the meeting room, of all places.

Anna splashes her face with cold water, still remembering how gross the air was in that room.

The shower that she took immediately when she returned home was nothing short of heavenly. But what truly brings her out of this world is when she comes out of the bath, with the sight of a certain blonde waiting for her in bed, ready to be ravished. Said blonde is still slumbering soundly in bed – _her_ bed – and, _oh_ , how exhilarating it is to know that now, this extraordinary woman belongs to _her._ She is a trophy, of sorts. To Anna.

She returns to her bed with every intention to rejoin the blonde. To wrap her arms around that slender waist, to bury her face into the woman’s neck. Funny how just a few months ago, Anna could only _dream_ to do any of this.

But she is Anna Arendelle.

When she wants something, she _always_ gets it.

* * *

_“Ms. Arendelle,” he calls to her, green eyes brimming with genuine excitement when he beams._

_But she isn’t looking at him._

(No, no. Anna was looking at the woman beside him.)

_“What an honour it is to be invited to this event!” The man says._

_This is all very exhausting, but Anna smiles back. It is crucial that she does. “Now, now, Mr. Westergaard,” she forces a laugh, “I should be the one to say that it’s an honour to have my most important business partner here,” Anna pauses, shifting her gaze to the woman who, from the start, had every bit of her attention. “And, this must be…?”_

_“Ah, where are my manners?” He gestures to the blonde, “This is my wife. She’s been dying to come to this gala. Wouldn’t stop bugging me about it,” he laughs. “Pretty sure she just wants to eat everything offered at the buffet.”_

_The woman in question frowns at him playfully, “I was looking forward to meeting the renowned CEO of Arendelle Enterprises.” When she turns to the redhead, her demeanour changes; a warm smile replaces the quasi-grimace and she reaches out a dainty hand to the shorter woman, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Arendelle. Hans has told me so much about you.”_

_Quite naturally, Anna takes a moment to observe. To simply look. Her gaze follows the length of that slender arm, and in that short span of a moment, she tries to imagine how smooth this woman’s skin must be. How soft this woman must feel under her touch. Anna’s eyes wander to the expanse of the blonde’s ample chest, barely obscured by the low V-neck collar of that white, silk gown._

(She still remembers how much she wanted to tear it open, right then and there that night.)

_And then Anna returns the smile with one of her own. “I hope they’re good things,” she takes the blonde’s hand and holds it firmly. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mrs. Westergaard.”_

_The blonde chuckles._

(Anna recalls how innocent the sound was – in contrast to the noises that she makes for her now.)

_“Please,” her eyes soften. “Call me Elsa.”_

* * *

“Mmn…”

Anna would be lying if she said that the moan didn’t make her _feel things._ _God,_ it is a sin how Elsa can literally do nothing, and she still makes Anna _so weak_. She lets her eyes wander to the thin covers of the blanket at the blonde’s hips – just _barely_ covering her lower body. Most curious; when awake, the woman is always so out of it _._ Like she’s distracted. Her mind drifting in space. Never gives Anna her full attention.

_Never will._

She bites at the insides of her mouth as an attempt to shove that voice away. She wants to focus on what’s more important.

But when Elsa’s sleeping like this, breathing ever so slightly, looking so exposed, so vulnerable, so readily _fuckable_ , Anna likes to believe that the blonde _wants this._

The moon peeks through the cracks of the gossamer curtains, illuminating the room with a dull, silver light, and Anna can just make out the faint, red marks scattered across the woman’s neck, chest, _stomach._ Truth be told, Anna never knew she was so aggressive. She’s not like this when she sleeps with other people – at least, that’s what she thinks. Like, she doesn’t remember being so obsessed with tasting every inch of her past partners. It’s Elsa. _Elsa_ is the only one who is able to give her such an effect. Anna finds the natural impulse to scoot closer to the woman, sitting right next to her and brings a hand up to brush the luscious, platinum blonde locks away from her beautiful features. She squints – making out through the darkness that she’s bruised the poor blonde’s lips.

 _Aw,_ Anna sighs to herself, must’ve been too rough again.

It really does break her heart when she sees the blonde hurt.

But when her gaze drifts downwards, back to the reddened marks on the woman’s body – some even drawing blood, though they’ve long dried by now – Anna can’t fight the grin that spreads across her cheeks.

Because this is how she marks Elsa as hers, and _hers alone._

* * *

_Their lunch dates become regular, mostly because Anna doesn’t like the food at the office’s cafeteria. Plus, if she stayed in that building, knowing herself, Anna would skip out on eating and continue with her work. It’s in her blood – being a workaholic. Why else is Arendelle Enterprises so successful? And since the two of them clicked so well on their first meeting, who’s to stop a budding friendship? Certainly, nobody. Not even Hans. No – he’s the one who encouraged this. He’s the one who told Anna that his dear, dear wife – ever the timid woman – longs to go out. Make friends. Socialize. It’s quite unfortunate, because Elsa, being the talented interior designer that she is, isn’t required to work at her studio; she can simply send in her drafts. And with whom can Elsa possibly interact with if she works from home?_

_More importantly, Southern Isles Corp. at the time is an important asset. Though clichéd, becoming friendly with the CEO will most definitely benefit her company on the long run. And what better way to solidify this relationship than to approach through the spouse?_

_And so, without much consideration, Anna voluntarily accepts the first invitation. It comes in the form of a text the next day—_

_‘Good morning, Ms. Arendelle. It was a pleasure meeting you last night. If you truly are considering a redecoration of your office, perhaps we can meet for lunch? I would love to show you some of my designs. Sincerely, Elsa Westergaard.’_

_The first time they meet, Anna is genuinely amazed by the blonde’s work. Now, the redhead knows next to nothing about art, but Elsa’s style gives off a comfortable, modern, yet simplistic atmosphere. The layouts are sophisticated and, simply put, aesthetically pleasing. Anna is so taken away that she almost agrees to an overhaul of her entire building, but no – no, no, no. She doesn’t give in easily._

_“I’ll consider it,” is what she says instead._

_And it is what she continues to say, every time they meet, albeit in different ways._

_Gradually, these meetings become more frequent – weekly, daily, even, and Anna finds herself unreservedly drawn to this woman. Soon, they no longer discuss office designs. They talk about their backgrounds, their private lives, their preferences in food, music, everything._

(In moments like those, Anna likes to believe that she isn’t Anna Arendelle. She's just a normal girl, still young, going on a date with someone she likes.)

_“You’re not seeing anyone?” Elsa asks her one day._

_“No time.” Untrue – she goes out a lot. Sleeps around a lot. Likes experimenting. Anna knows she’s not unattractive, and if she wants, she can have anyone, without giving away her identity. But she feigns disappointment – because that’s just how she is; she likes experimenting. “I don’t think anyone would want to date someone like me.”_

_“Why do you say that?”_

_The concern in Elsa’s tone sends a burst of warmth up Anna’s chest. She fights the urge to look like those words mean the world to her. “Well, y’know,” Anna shrugs. “I’m just me. Workaholic, self-obsessed, domineering, dragon-lady.”_

_“But you’re not,” Elsa reaches across the table, holding onto her hand. “You’re beautiful, you’re an inspiration, and I think anybody would be lucky to have you.”_

_At this, Anna can’t hold back the gasp that escapes her throat. For a hint of a second, she forgets to breathe. She forgets the reason she’s here, and her eyes shoot up to meet the blonde’s._

_Elsa responds with the brightest, cutest, lopsided grin. “You’re wonderful, Anna. Don’t ever think otherwise.”_

_Anna isn’t getting soft – no; she would never drop her guard – but. But she needs to do something, quick._

_She swallows. Tries to divert the conversation elsewhere – she spots the ring on the blonde’s finger. Perfect. “Enough about me,” she starts. “What about you? I hear that Hans is not just a great entrepreneur, but he’s known to be a loving husband. How long have you been married, anyway?”_

_Elsa blinks, her long, dark lashes flutter when she bats her eyes. A blush spreads from her neck up to her cheeks. She draws her hands to herself, clutching them at her chest. “W-well, we… we’ve been together since high school. He proposed to me two years after we graduated college. I was still in grad school, and he was starting up his business.”_

_“High school sweethearts?” Anna raises a bemused brow. How sickly innocent. “That’s adorable.”_

_The blonde giggles and looks down fondly at her ring. One would think that being the wife of the esteemed Hans Westergaard, Elsa would be wearing some three-carat diamond ring, but the one she has on her finger is a simple platinum band with a subtle blue sapphire at its centre. “Hans really is sweet to me. This ring—” she extends her hand, “—is bought with his own hard work. I think he worked several part-time jobs without my knowing during college to save up for this. Said he wanted it to be a surprise. Of course, with his business going so well, he eventually earned enough to get me – and I quote: a ‘proper’ one, but I told him this is the only one I’ll ever need.”_

_“Aw,” the redhead rests her elbows on the table, leaning her chin on the bridge her fingers have formed. “It’s like a real-life fairy tale.”_

_Elsa’s blush just deepens. “I-I probably said too much.”_

_Anna chuckles. “No, not at all,”_

_Somehow, she finds it difficult to look away from the ring._

_“Mind telling me more about yourself?”_

_Somehow, she’s able to hold herself back from ripping the damn thing off the blonde’s finger._

* * *

Well, none of that matters anymore _,_ Anna thinks as she crawls on top of the blonde.

It is quite amazing how deep of a sleeper Elsa is; or perhaps it’s because Anna wore her out earlier? Doesn’t matter. She dips her head into the woman’s neck, peppering her with light kisses at first, _experimenting._ But soon, Anna starts using teeth. She scrapes the tendons at Elsa’s neck, leaving faint red trails – down to her collarbones, and then she _bites—_

“ _Aahn…!”_

Anna hums in approval into Elsa’s skin. How frightening it must be to wake up to this. She presses more kisses along the blonde’s neck in an agonizingly slow manner, finally stopping at her ear to whisper, “Let loose for once, would you?” And then Anna pulls back, now face to face with the woman. Her own red hair cascades down her shoulders, framing her face like silk curtains. “I want you to _scream_ for me.”

A mewl escapes Elsa. Her bright blue eyes are widened with fear, and she’s visibly shaking.

Anna should feel bad. But, _oh,_ it all looks so _hot._

She licks her lips. Leans down to kiss the blonde’s forehead. Nose. Eyelids. Brows. Cheeks. And lips. But Elsa doesn’t return it. Anna scrunches her brows together, “Kiss me.” She whispers into Elsa’s mouth.

She doesn’t.

So Anna lets a hand wander down the curve of Elsa’s waist. The gentle sensation makes the blonde breathe out with something akin to relief, but in a quick motion, Anna starts using her nails, _digging_ into Elsa’s – _once –_ immaculate skin. “Kiss. Me. _”_

She does this time. Returning it with fervour, even. Her mouth opens wide, so inviting, so _willing,_ where Anna can just thrust her tongue in, capture Elsa’s, and _suck._ The reaction is immediate – the blonde throws her head back, but she doesn’t break the kiss. She groans, her chest rumbles in what makes her seem as though she has difficulty breathing. But Anna is forgiving; she releases her and moves downwards, capturing a pink, hardened nipple between her teeth and _tugs._

“ _Anna!”_ Elsa cries, but quickly stops when she brings a hand to her mouth, biting at its back. “Nnn _…”_

The redhead smirks. She applies more pressure onto the nub, hoping to draw out an even stronger reaction. “I said I want you to scream for me, Elsa.” Her free hand finds the blonde’s other nipple, where she applies the same amount of strength with her fingers as her teeth. Pinching. Nibbling. _Scratching. Gnawing._

“Please… _Anna…”_ Elsa’s body undulates as her other hand claws at the fabric of the pillow she’s resting on. Her legs refuse to part. It’s like she doesn’t want to touch the redhead. Like she doesn’t _want_ the redhead.

And that really, _really_ pisses her off.

* * *

_Anna considers breaking all ties. The more time she spends with this woman, the more incompetent, more vulnerable and pathetic she feels. It’s like Elsa has the ability to bring out her worst side – or sides that Anna never knew existed within herself. It’s simultaneously unsettling and oddly comforting._

(Which is why it was so difficult.)

_She can’t possibly say it to Elsa directly. Anna – despite being confident in many of her abilities, knows that hiding her true feelings isn’t one of her strongest suits._

_Which is only logical for her to pursue alternatives._

_“Please, Ms. Arendelle, we have every reason to continue our partnership,” Hans sits up, trying to get the attention of the redhead who is apparently much too busy with the paperwork in front of her. Seeing no response, he lowers his voice, approaching calmly once more, “Anna, I’m asking this as a friend. Would you reconsider—”_

_“No, I will not,” is the only answer that he will get. “Mr. Westergaard, I will only say this once. I would hate to have security escort you out. So, please,” she glances up. Sharp, teal eyes pierce into his murky green ones, “Leave.”_

_It all worked out so smoothly. Anna sacrificed professionalism – she risked the future of her company – for personal matters. Should this be considered as a noble deed? Anna argues that it should, because she’s alleviated the situation before it worsened. Before it could go anywhere. Before she could ruin a marriage. She was willing to bear the problems that her company may face in wake of this decision._

_But Anna forgets that she’s not meant to play the hero._

(If the universe wants her to be the villain—)

_Anna forgets that when she wants something – truly, wholeheartedly – she would always get it._

_“Anna…” Elsa calls her that night._

(—then, fine. She’ll be whatever it wants her to be.)

_The redhead glances at the clock – 2:09AM. “Elsa?” she yawns, rubbing her eyes. “Why are you calling at this time?” The response is delayed, but when she hears a sniffle coming from the other end of the phone, Anna feels her heart drop._

_“It’s Hans. I-I didn’t know where he was the entire night until the hospital called. He’s…” Elsa’s voice trembles so much she needs to take a moment to breathe, “… in critical condition. I-I don’t know who else to call—”_

_Against better judgement, Anna jumps right out of bed. “Elsa, calm down. I’ll be right there. Just hang on, okay?”_

_Is she a sick person for feeling more concern over Elsa’s emotional state than Hans’ life?_

(Whom she is completely responsible for – indirectly or not.)

_No. Not just sick. She’s despicable. Disgusting. Pure evil._

_But none of that matters when she arrives at the hospital. None of that matters when the doctor spurs on about internal bleeding, fractured skull, punctured lungs, amongst other nonsense that Anna doesn’t give a shit about. Because all that matters is Elsa, crying in her arms. Elsa, leaning onto her for support. Elsa, longing for comfort._

(From her.)

* * *

Elsa shrieks when Anna pulls the covers off, letting the thin blanket fall over the edge of the bed. Even with her body entirely exposed like this, Elsa still has a hand at her mouth, the other clenching helplessly at her pillow. She isn’t making an effort to hide herself – is this her attempt at seduction? Playing hard-to-get? _Jesus fucking Christ_ , Anna is convinced that this woman isn’t human. These thoughts are overwhelming, singeing every nerve in Anna’s body. She needs to press her hips into the bed, just for a semblance of relief.

“The things you do to me,” Anna releases her nipple, making sure to ease the stinging pain with her tongue. She takes the time swirling, kissing, _sucking,_ all the while watching the blonde’s reaction.

What a sight to behold.

The woman has her eyes shut and is trying so hard to suppress her moans. The harder she tries, the more sensual her gasps become — the more Anna wants her. Because she really wasn’t joking when she said that she wanted Elsa to scream.

“You’re making this a challenge, aren’t you?” Anna murmurs into Elsa’s skin, the vibrations of her voice making the woman below shiver, to which the redhead can actually _see._ The way Elsa’s body trembles when she inhales. So beautiful. Anna presses one more kiss onto the tip of the blonde’s nipple before moving down – taking her sweet time as she does. She reaches Elsa’s pubic region and, with force, pries those creamy white legs open. How exhilarating it is to see that she’s left bite marks even here, at the woman’s inner thighs. Poor Elsa looks so _fucking_ violated. God, Anna is insatiable, isn’t she?

“Anna…”

It doesn’t matter how she does it – whenever Elsa calls her name, it’s spectacular. Like the very concept of happiness and _confusion_ mingling in the most extraordinary way, bubbling with an unfamiliar sensation deep within her chest, and Anna oddly recalls experiencing such a feeling when she was still a schoolgirl, encountering her first crush. “Hmm?” she answers.

Elsa is still trembling – _poor thing_ – and she forces her eyes open, searching for Anna’s teal ones in the dark. “C-can we—” she chews on her lower lip, cutting herself off. Her throat bobs, Anna can hear her swallow, and she pushes on, “—I’m… I don’t want…” she squirms, moving her legs awkwardly, like she’s trying to close them despite having the redhead in between. “Can you just hold me tonight?”

At that, Anna furrows her brows. “No.” The response is quick and blunt. Her sharp gaze pierces into Elsa’s soft, pleading stare and she moves in, closer to the blonde’s heat. “I want to fuck you right now,” she says firmly, articulating each syllable with a harsh tone. Her hot breath fans at Elsa’s centre at every word. All the blonde can do is gasp for air, as evenly as her body allows. Both hands move to grip at the pillow above her head to brace herself for what’s to come, because Anna – _dear, kind, beautiful Anna_ – will _love_ her.

Anna believes that she is giving this woman so much love.

So much more than _he_ ever did.

In her own, sick, _twisted_ way.

* * *

_They don’t know how long he has left. He’s on life support, lost too much blood, is much too weak to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time. Elsa is glued to his bedside, making sure to be there at every visiting opportunity._

_Against better judgement, Anna offers to be by her side. To get her food. To be her designated driver._

_No, not because Elsa’s turned to alcohol for relief, but because she has gotten so dreadfully tired._

(Also because Anna has already caused one accident; as guiltless as she feels, she still doesn’t want to cause another one. Especially if it’s Elsa’s life on the line.)

_So much for cutting ties._

_“Elsa,” she puts the car on park, reaches over for the blonde’s shoulder. “Hey, we’re here.”_

_The woman breathes in sharply when she wakes. Dazed, Elsa looks around and realizes that they’re at her house’s driveway. “I’m so sorry…” she rubs her eyes, removing her seatbelt. “I didn’t realize I fell asleep.”_

_“I’d be surprised if you stayed awake,” Anna retorts, eyeing the woman with concern. “You need to get some rest.” This needs to have more gravity; Anna reminds herself that she’s playing the role of a caring friend. “He would want you to take better care of yourself.”_

_Elsa forces a smile. She sits straight, straining her neck a little and reaches for the door. “Thank you, Anna. I’ll try my best. For Hans… and for you as well, okay?” It doesn’t sound one bit convincing. The smile she bears is so feeble. Her eyes are red and puffy and she looks like she’s about to pass out. In fact, she does pass out, collapsing three steps away from her doorway._

_So of course it’s Anna’s responsibility to see her back into the house. Of course she tucks Elsa into bed. And of course she hears the blonde sobbing just as she leaves. Being the caring friend that she is, then, Anna can’t bear to ignore the cries. She returns, sitting herself on the side of the bed and reaches for Elsa’s hand. It’s freezing, like life is slowly leaving her body. “Elsa…”_

_The blonde shakes her head. “I know,” barely a whisper, “Crying isn’t going to help.” She covers her mouth with a hand. God. She looks so small. Anna just wants to wrap her arms around her. “But I don’t know what to do. I-I… Anna, I don’t want to lose him…” The tears clinging at her glassy eyes finally stream down her flushed cheeks. Elsa throws her arms around the redhead, once again seeking her for comfort. “I don’t want to be alone,” is what she can barely manage through her croaked voice._

_Anna wraps the blonde in her arms. The woman is so brittle, she fears that if she holds her a bit too tightly, she would break into a million pieces. “It’s okay, Elsa,” Anna whispers into the crown of her head. “I’ve got you.”_

(This is what she’s wanted, isn’t it? This is what _the universe_ is presenting to her, is it not?)

_And then Anna scoots in, resting against the headboard of the bed that Elsa and her husband once shared._

* * *

The tangy, strong taste of arousal never ceases to amaze her. Anna keeps her eyes on Elsa as she widens her jaw, thrusts her tongue in deeper, wriggles it – retracts, and then just _breathes—_

 _“Please…!”_ Elsa’s voice is tremulous, but she sounds so, _so_ cute. “Please, Anna…”

It makes Anna smirk. It makes her want more. _Hear_ more of that voice. She will drink in anything that Elsa gives her. Anna kisses a red spot on her inner thigh, sucking the mark gently to deepen its already-harsh colour. Elsa groans – it isn’t certain whether it’s a sound of approval or frustration. But Anna ignores it – she’s so talented at that – and presses higher. She swirls her tongue around the blonde’s clit, making sure to avoid touching it directly. “Please what?” Anna questions.

The menacing tone makes Elsa whimper. Tears are already streaming down her blue eyes, and, in her most desperate attempt, she finally lets go of the pillow she’s been clenching onto. Elsa reaches for Anna. “… Hold me,” she tries, voice quiet. She opens her arms, “… please.”

* * *

_Hans’ condition is stable, yet Elsa’s steadily worsens. Both emotionally and physically. She doesn’t sleep – Anna knows that because the dark circles underneath her eyes become more prominent day by day, and she fears going home because being there reminds her of him. Of how she’s alone. Of how she soon will be – forever._

_Seeing how the once radiant, ethereal woman become so gaunt puts an unspoken strain on Anna, and so she offers one day when they’re leaving the hospital together, “If you don’t want to be alone, you can come stay with me for the time being.”_

_Elsa looks at her, shocked. “Anna, I… I’ve caused you enough trouble – I can’t—”_

_“When he recovers, you can go back with him together. It’ll be like moving into a new house.” Anna says, giving the woman her most reassuring smile. Not that there’s any truth behind it._

(Not that she needs to know.)

_“I live alone anyway,” Anna shrugs. “I could use the company.”_

_And she actually does as Anna suggests. Because Elsa trusts her that much. She packs just a few things; clothes, makeup, her laptop and some drawing tools for work – because Anna insists that she needs to be occupied with other things, lest she fall into a deeper depression. It’s riveting, to say the least, that Elsa listens to her so easily._

(If only she knew.)

_“Let me know if you need anything, okay? My room is just down the hall. Or you can text me if you’re feeling lazy.” Anna finds appropriate instances where she would slip in playful remarks. It works out most of the time, because she never fails to make the blonde smile when she tries._

_“Anna,” Elsa calls before the redhead exits the room. “Thank you. For everything. You’ve been a great help the past few weeks – I don’t know what I’d do without you. If there’s any way I can repay—”_

_“Hey, now. You don’t need to do anything,” she cuts in. “Besides,” Anna rolls her eyes, “I’m, like, very successful and rich. I… pretty much can get anything I want.”_

_Elsa giggles._

(Silly woman. She actually thinks Anna is joking.)

_“Alright,” Elsa pushes a strand of hair behind an ear. “Then would you at least let me treat you to dinner? The doctor told me they need to run an extra round of dialysis on Hans tonight, so I probably can’t visit until tomorrow morning.”_

_Anna doesn’t answer right away. She gives Elsa a worried look, effectively playing the hesitation card. “If that’s what you want.”_

_Elsa smiles at her, nodding. “I want to think about other things for the night.”_

_And so, they end up at some Michelin three-star restaurant that overlooks the cityscape. Anna complains that it’s much too fancy, but Elsa insists that the CEO of a major corporation deserves something of this calibre. Anna doesn’t know how to break it to her that she has shares in this restaurant – this hotel, actually, and that she’s been here many times and is the reason it’s thriving, but if coming here means it would allow her to spend more time with Elsa, then Anna shouldn’t argue._

_They settle for food with pretentious, unpronounceable names. It’s just so frustrating, though, because from the start, Anna sees Elsa barely touching her utensils, let alone her food; she’s just sipping on her cocktail. If she recalls, it’s some drink infused with a shit ton of vodka. Needless to say, it’s not something that she’d picture Elsa of all people drinking. If anything, the blonde looks more like a red wine-type, no?_

_But it becomes obvious that Elsa doesn’t even drink alcohol. Two drinks in, her speech is slurred, her cheeks are flushed, and when she excuses herself to use the restroom, she nearly tumbles onto the floor._

_Anna waits a few minutes. She doesn’t want to appear too eager. Too obvious. She takes a few more sips of her wine, casually swirling the contents in her glass, downing the rest of it, before heading for the restroom herself. And it isn’t surprising at all to be able to hear soft, sobbing noises right outside the door. When Anna enters, she finds the woman standing at the sink, in front of the mirror, just covering her mouth, shoulders trembling._

_There’s something about the sight. The way Elsa looks so torn. Anna almost doesn’t want to do it, but she’d be an idiot to not take this opportunity presented to her by the gods above. She walks over, circles a cautious arm around Elsa’s waist, and on instinct, the woman returns the embrace. If and when she wants, Anna can be very, very affectionate._

(It becomes particularly easy when she needs to behave like so for personal gains.)

_“Shh…” she hushes into the blonde’s ear, her breath fanning gently at the thin wisps of hair._

_Elsa’s hold on her tightens. She sobs harder._

_Anna grins. She starts rubbing Elsa’s back – up and down, up and down, making sure to brush her fingers past the bump of the bra strap beneath the woman’s thin blouse. Gently – ever so carefully – her other hand moves higher, where her fingers thread in Elsa’s platinum strands. She combs through them several times, admiring how silk-like they feel between her digits, and then she moves even higher. Higher. Stopping only to massage the woman’s scalp._

_A moan escapes Elsa, her voice sending electric sparks down Anna’s spine._

(Fuck.)

_It makes her centre pulse. Anna has to bite back a moan of her own. She presses closer, her lips now attached to the spot behind the woman’s ear. Whenever she breathes, Elsa’s body trembles. Well, damn – so she’s sensitive around here? That’s good to know. Anna decides to test it out; she exhales, and, like clockwork, Elsa’s body wobbles. It has become quite apparent that if the redhead weren’t holding onto her, she would have lost balance._

_Elsa’s arms snake around Anna’s neck._

_Oh, it’s all so easy. Anna almost feels bad – she should feel bad – but, honest to god, she doesn’t. She can’t find an ounce of guilt. This is all so amazing, so thrilling to be corrupting such a pure and innocent woman. Anna decides to push this further. Instead of just breathing, this time, she speaks directly into her ear, “Elsa,”_

(Remember. She’s playing the role of a caring friend.)

_The woman in question stiffens. Her breath becomes faster. Panting. Anna can feel Elsa’s chest expanding and falling rapidly under her own, and that’s her cue. “Elsa,” she calls again, this time in a huskier tone, “Tell me what you need.”_

_Elsa pulls back a little. Their faces are a mere inch apart. If Anna so much as leans forward, their lips would touch. The weird thing is, Elsa’s already looking at them. Her lips, that is. In a small duration of silence, several women come and go – where they’d look at the two weird – but Anna pays them no mind. It doesn’t seem like Elsa even notices them, either. She doesn’t even notice that she’s staring at the redhead’s lips._

_“H-hold…” Elsa starts with a meek voice, “Hold me.”_

_The hairs at the back of Anna’s neck rise._

_Elsa is the one to lean in. Elsa is the one who closes the distance. “Kiss me.”_

* * *

Anna swallows Elsa’s moans, her whimpers, her _purrs –_ the sounds fuelling her to kiss deeper, _harder._ Their bodies are flushed, yet Elsa is trying her utter best to pull Anna closer, as if it were even possible. Her arms wrapped around the redhead’s midsection slide upwards, fingers gripping delicately at the redhead’s shoulder blades. But that’s all they’re doing. Just gripping. Like Elsa isn’t putting in any effort in this. She wants to be closer, but she isn’t trying. Anna doesn’t know. It’s… just as she feels – which is to say _nothing._ What the fuck does Elsa want? Is there any reason to play hard-to-get at this point?

The thought angers her.

She slips a thigh between Elsa’s legs.

“ _Mmm!”_ Elsa moans into Anna’s mouth. She tries to tear away – just to breathe, perhaps, but the redhead has her trapped, completely pinned. Elsa squirms; she claws at Anna’s back, blunt nails leaving harsh red marks in their wake.

In response, Anna thrusts her tongue in, refuses to let Elsa _breathe,_ and she presses her thigh harder against the woman’s heat. Fingers moving to hold onto Elsa’s hips, she digs her nails into the blonde’s flesh. She pulls back, now bumping foreheads with her.

“ _Anna_ …” she manages through her gasps.

“E-Elsa, your nails…” Anna murmurs, doing well to mask her uneven breath. She brushes away the messy, thin strands of hair sticking onto the damp skin of the blonde’s face.

That gentle, caring gesture along with Anna’s words change Elsa’s expression from that of unprecedented fear to a sort of… confusion? Uncertainty? _Concern?_ “I-I’m sorry, I just…” Elsa starts – _apologetically –_ using the pads of her fingers to feel for the thin scars she’s left on Anna’s back, soothing the pain. “I didn’t know I was—”

“It’s okay,” Anna whispers gently, faking a sad smile. “It doesn't hurt.”

And the aforementioned concern on Elsa’s elegant features turns into guilt.

* * *

_She spins the blonde around, making her face the mirror. Anna shoves her hips into Elsa’s back side, trapping her in place, and Elsa leans forward, supporting her upper body with her thin arms on the porcelain sink. Anna doesn’t waste any time; she slips her hands underneath Elsa’s blouse. It brings her so much joy when she feels skin that is every bit as soft as she has imagined. Her fingers trek higher, feels the blonde’s protruding ribs – which makes her grimace; she’ll be sure to have the blonde eat more when the time comes – and reaches the wires of Elsa’s laced bra. Again, she doesn’t waste time. Anna pulls the undergarment down entirely, the motion violent enough to pop open the top few buttons of the blonde’s shirt. She moves to cup those full breasts, and Anna stares straight ahead at the mirror._

_It’s so, so undeniably hot. Elsa’s closed eyes, her slacked jaw, her opened shirt, and with Anna herself, glaring at their reflection – teeth attached to the blonde’s white neck – it’s. Oh, fuck. So beautiful. Vampiric. Picturesque. More. She wants more. Anna wants all of Elsa – her scent, her sound, her taste. She wants this woman. She needs to touch—_

_“Shit.” A burst of heat pools at her centre; Anna’s definitely let her guard down a bit. She can’t do that. Not yet. Anna mentally screams at herself to touch—_

(Touch her, damn it.)

 _—squeeze, feel Elsa’s chest. The effect is instantaneous; Anna thinks if she listens any longer, if she makes Elsa sound_ like this _any longer, she’s going to come – right then and there. But she doesn’t want that. Not so soon. She wants to seize this moment, and she is not about to have some stranger come in to ruin everything._

_With force, Anna drags Elsa’s body into one of the bathroom stalls, slamming the door shut. She presses forward to crush her chest into Elsa’s back, all the while moving a hand down to cup the woman’s heat. It’s – it’s so amazing. This woman is just so incredible, isn’t she? Anna groans into Elsa’s neck, closing her eyes as she savours the feeling of her fingers being coated by this woman’s wetness. So hot. Elsa’s panties are completely soaked. It’s so fucking easy to slip inside where her muscles just grip—_

_“Uhnn…!” In one swift, natural motion, Anna moves the same hand back up, thrusting her wet fingers into Elsa’s mouth._

_“Quiet.”_

_A moment, and then Elsa nods. She… oh, god, she’s sucking on those fingers._

_“Fuck, Elsa…” Anna groans into the back of the woman’s neck. Her other hand starts to toy with a nipple – pinching and squeezing just hard enough to make Elsa buck her hips, lean into her touch, yearning for more. Anna, to her credit, resists the urge to tear all the clothes off this woman. But then Elsa starts grinding her ass into Anna’s crotch._

(That should have been the warning sign.)

_She can’t fight the moan this time. Anna bucks forward – she needs relief, just. Something. She pulls her fingers out of Elsa’s mouth, slips them under the blonde’s tight pencil skirt, and thrusts back into her heat._

_“Ahhn…!” Elsa writhes, moving in sync with those fingers. Her moans crescendo into sharp cries. She raises her backside to give the person behind a better angle. “Yes…!”_

_Too much. Too much. Anna can’t hold back – Elsa’s voice has possessed her. The sound alone is pushing her off the edge. She’s so close – so close. Anna thrusts her hips forward, the movement slamming Elsa violently against the door—_

_“God… baby—uhnn…!"_

_Faster, harder, deeper._

_“Don't stop…! Hans—”_

(Why did it hurt so much then?)

_Anna’s eyes bulge. Time freezes. In that tiny fraction of a second, she forgets how to breathe. How to move. Her head spins, her heart hammers painfully against her chest, and her lungs are set aflame. She stops. She… she can’t._

(Why does it hurt so much now?)

_And Elsa. Poor, pathetic, drunk, little Elsa. She finally realizes. Slowly, Elsa turns, and Anna catches those wide, horrified eyes with her own._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but I'm pretty sure nobody wants to read a 40k-word fic.


	2. egeo

“Anna…” Elsa whispers. Her hands move to frame the redhead’s face, thumbs brushing Anna’s puffy bottom lip. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” She prolongs that sad smile, but she is unfazed.

_(Keep telling yourself that.)_

She feels _nothing_ , she doesn’t need any reassurance, because she is in control. After all, _the universe_ is on Anna’s side. She feeds on the guilt that this woman bleeds.

Elsa sighs, her hands stay at Anna’s cheeks where her fingers stroke at the skin gingerly. “But I’ve hurt you,” she finishes, creasing her brows together in worry when she closes her eyes.

“Hm.” Beautiful. Pain pairs _so well_ with Elsa’s features. “As long as it makes you feel better,” Anna pauses to peck the blonde on the lips. Just gently, though. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

Elsa clenches _so hard_ at that – as in, her entire body stiffens; faint wrinkles appear at the corners of her eyes, like she's holding back tears, and she lets out a trembling sob. “I…” she says quietly, “Anna, I’m just… what I’ve done—I don’t deserve you—”

Anna captures her lips again, cutting her off. This time, she kisses her slowly, lazily. The blonde, in turn, circles her arms around Anna’s head. With an equal amount of strength, she reciprocates. She kisses back – and Anna doesn’t know why it makes the back of her eyes feel a bit hot, makes her nose sour. It’s a strange phenomenon, but does she care? Does it matter? Would it kill her if she didn't get down to the bottom of this, if she didn't make a spreadsheet to analyze this feeling?

“No, Elsa,” is what she decides to say. Anna strokes the woman’s cheeks with the backs of her fingers, tracing the skin below her waterline with extra care. She has every intention to go on. To tell her. How much it’s making her care, how much it matters, how much it _kills her._

But nothing.

Anna just kisses her again.

_(I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.)_

* * *

_There’s the inevitable awkwardness that follows, of course. But this bond that they share, this relationship, Anna supposes, is too important to be severed. And so, in a solemn, reluctant fashion, they mutually agree that they had a bit too much to drink that night. Elsa herself admits that she’s going through a lot, which explains the whole getting-out-of-control part. Anna, quickly adapting to the situation, blames it on a birth control confusion, saying that it’s the whole reason she was so hormonal (horny)._

_Not the best excuse, but Elsa buys it. Maybe._

_No, not really. Elsa is just accepting every explanation possible to bury away her guilt. Can she be blamed? She was having sex with a friend, mistaking said friend for a man – for her husband. In a public washroom of all places. That’s just fucked up. And she knows it’s fucked up. That’s why now, she avoids Anna like the Plague, opting to come home late and leave early._

_Now, Anna – calculating, conniving, cunning Anna – foresaw this. She knew that there was going to be an awkwardness, a discomfort that would shroud the two in the aftermath. Because, after all, what Elsa did – she was being unfaithful. Disloyal. Cheating – alcohol be damned. What Anna did not anticipate, however, was the fact that it would affect her so much. As in, herself. That Anna would feel nauseous when she wakes up in the morning, thinking of what she’s done to that woman. That Anna would feel her head pounding, every time Elsa’s voice echoes in her ears. That Anna would feel her heart drop, every time she catches a glimpse of Elsa in the house._

_But what makes her stomach churn – what makes her want to vomit is the fact that Elsa is still around. Still here, with her. It’s so confusing. Why hasn’t she gone home? Why… after such a fucked up incident, why is she still sticking around? Why not just run back to the house that she and her wonderful, loving, dying husband share?_

_She doesn’t get it._

(Doesn’t want to get it.)

_So she questions it. She approaches the blonde one evening when she returns from another one of those hospital visits. God. This woman’s persistent, isn’t she? He’s as good as dead. She’s just… bleakly clinging onto false hope. Whatever. Doesn’t matter._

_“Hey,” Anna greets, as casually as possible. She crosses her arms, coming up with the only thing that she knows is relevant to Elsa. Spots the wedding band. Tries not to grit her teeth when she asks, “How’s he doing?”_

_The woman doesn’t respond right away. She just stiffens and looks down at her feet, like she’d find words on the floor. “H-he’s…” and then slowly, her eyes move up. Brilliant blue orbs glistening with uncertainty. “… the same.”_

_She swallows. Literally nothing happens, but the tension in the room rises. Anna feels hot – like blood is boiling beneath her skin and the desire to release this heat is the only thing that would gratify her._

_“Excuse me.” Elsa mutters. She keeps her head down again as she makes her way past the redhead._

_It’s a reflex. Anna doesn’t even need to think – she grabs onto the blonde’s wrist, holding her in place._

_Elsa doesn’t react, doesn’t even flinch. It’s like she saw this coming._

_But what does she want to say? Anna hasn’t prepared this far. “I…” she thinks and thinks. She chews on her lower lip, tasting blood. “Elsa—”_

_“Anna.” The woman cuts her off, still refusing to look at her. “Don’t.”_

_And that triggers something in her. The redhead’s grip on Elsa tightens – not painfully so, but just tight enough that it’s hard for the blonde to break away. Elsa feels this, obviously, yet she doesn’t react. She just remains still. So Anna decides to speak up, “If you hate me so much,” her words comes out in a grunt, “Just say it.”_

_Elsa winces at her words. “I don’t hate you.”_

_She presses on, “Then look at me.”_

_Takes a moment, but slowly, gradually, Elsa turns, facing the redhead._

_It’s so eerie. The silence that hangs in the air is making goosebumps appear all over her skin. It’s making her hairs stand. Their gaze is connected – tethered, and neither one has the intention in breaking this delicate gravitational pull they feel towards each other. It’s almost like if they broke it, the world will be flipped upside down. The very concept of their existence would implode. God, it’s – Anna can’t breathe. This is the most painful, the most excruciating she has ever felt._

_And this woman. She’s not making it any easier, is she?_

_“Anna…” she calls her name, the sound never failing to produce this stellar effect that the redhead can't help but to savour. “Please let go.”_

_What?_

_No._

_Fucking – nobody tells her what to do. A scowl breaks Anna’s features, she forcefully pulls the woman to face her. “Why are you like this?!” she raises her voice. “Why don’t you just move away, go back to your house if you’d rather pretend I’m invisible?”_

_The woman draws her arms together, crossing them form of barrier around herself. “I’m not…”_

_“No,” she says, a bit too harshly. “You’re – I thought we’ve talked about this. I thought everything’s back to normal. But you’re still – you’re ignoring me,” Anna pauses. Needs a break. Uh-oh, why is she so angry? Doesn't she have this under control? Why can't she contain herself? Why is she still talking? “I don’t know what you want. I—”_

_“Anna,” Elsa interrupts her softly._

_The redhead finds herself panting._

_And then Elsa gives Anna a smile - an incomplete, broken smile. “… I don’t know what I want, either.”_

* * *

This is the longest they’ve kissed. Anna isn’t one to waste time with affection; she doesn’t care much for it – she likes to get right down to the point. But she can’t seem to pull away. At least, not with Elsa constantly clinging onto her like this. Not with Elsa combing so gently through her hair, making sure to stroke her stinging back with those chilled fingers. Not with Elsa mewling into her mouth, every time she parts to breathe. Their kisses are slow, controlled, and… _what’s the word?_ Passionate? _No –_ that’s too simplistic. Anna tries to search for the word as she nibbles on the blonde’s lips. Upper and lower – just… nibbling.

_(Because it feels so good.)_

“Elsa…” Anna finds herself moaning her name.

The woman in question responds by running her fingers a tad lower – to the small of Anna’s back, running circles at the dip. “Hmm?”

_(But so unsettling.)_

Their lips are still connected. “What are you thinking about?”

For a fraction of a second, Elsa stops. She doesn’t move – _frozen_. It’s subtle, but Anna definitely felt it.

“Tell me,” Anna urges, touching Elsa’s lips, as softly as possible. “What… _who_ you’re thinking about.”

Elsa brings a hand to Anna’s face, and the latter pulls back just a bit. They stare at each other – deep blue and teal clashing – and the silence in the room is deafening _._ The blonde just looks, _searches,_ as her hand caresses Anna’s cheek. “You,” she finally says.

_(Liar.)_

“… just you.”

* * *

_What does that even mean?_

_She doesn’t know what she wants? What? That’s not the answer Anna is looking for. It’s so frustrating. Why is this so unnecessarily complicated?! It’s like she’s being left alone in a void, with no direction to go. Every time they make eye contact, there’s this prickling feeling in her heart. Whenever they speak to each other, Anna wants to cry. To her, Elsa’s here, but she also isn’t. Why does she feel this way? What exactly does she crave? She doesn’t know. Uncertain. Just… all she knows is that she needs a goal – some kind of target._

(More.)

 _She wants more._ Needs more. _Elsa’s body. Yes, that’s it. That’s what she wants. And Anna will get all of Elsa – one way or another._

_In the rare occasions where they do see each other from that point on, Anna ensures that she wouldn’t hold her gaze for too long. The redhead acts nervous, guilty, scared – anything that makes her look vulnerable. She needs Elsa to see. Anything to make Elsa feel that she’s the one responsible for the great Anna Arendelle’s emotional downward spiral. Her behaviour becomes erratic. Anna makes it an active commitment to ignore the woman even in the moments where Elsa so obviously wants to talk. To tell her to stop acting like the way she does. To sit down together so they may be as they were before._

(Come back, Anna.)

_Nobody tells her what to do. Anna is capable – she’s the heiress to a multi-billion-dollar corporation. She’s a literal queen. She does whatever the fuck she wants._

_Which is why nobody is going to stop her when brings home someone she meets at a club one night – a tall, blonde young man named Christopher or whatever. And while he may not be the gentlest person in the world, he certainly is obedient and easy. He’ll do, she tells herself._

_Anna aims to create as much noise as possible. It helps that the guy is so massive. She has her legs wrapped around the man’s burly waist; they barge into her house so hard the door probably made a dent in the wall. They stumble with much difficulty up the stairs; the guy nearly trips on many occasions, and thinking back, Anna could’ve died, but what’s more important? Her life or the opportunity of claiming a certain someone for her own? There’s no competition._

_The two strip in the middle of the hallway where their limbs tangle helplessly in their sleeves, leaving a trail of scattered clothes on the marbled floor. Down to their underwear, Anna stops the man right in front of her bedroom. She lets him slam her against the closed door, lets him press his hardened length to her heat, and she just grinds on him as she cries, “Please…!” and then groans, ever so quietly, right into his ear, “Fuck me.”_

(Please stop.)

_The man’s eyes light up. Literally. Soft, brown eyes sharpen, and he grins. “You’re quite the feisty one, aren’t you?” he remarks as he dives into the juncture between her shoulder and neck, attacking her with his teeth._

_‘Feisty’ isn’t the right word, Anna wants to retort, but she just grinds harder, whispering into his ear, “You either fuck me, or shut up,” it comes out in a feral grunt. It makes the man shiver. It invigorates him, and he really does listen. But it’s not enough. This needs to work. She needs it to. Anna keeps her eyes on Elsa’s room at the end of the hall – hoping, anticipating._

_The man pulls his length out and doesn’t waste any time – he starts rubbing himself along her wet opening._

_It’s all so comical how everything just comes along so well. Anna barely has to try. Seriously. The lights in Elsa’s room lit up, and Anna bites onto her lower lip to suppress the grin, forming so naturally. “Harder,” she demands instead, rocking her hips harshly._

_He growls and obeys, pinning her against the door with so much force Anna feels a bit lightheaded at the impact. The man enters her, his girth pushing deep within and she doesn’t need to force out the cry this time._

_So easy. It’s all so fucking easy. She curls her fingers into his hair, urging him to be rougher. She needs him to. In all honesty though, the guy’s pretty good. But she has more pressing matters at hand. Having sex with this stranger isn’t her goal. “I-is this… all—y-you can do?” she grunts softly into his ear between each thrust._

_The reaction is immediate. He growls, grabs her ass for better leverage and just slams in—_

_“Nn…!” The heat surges through her veins. She sees stars at his strength, and it feels good. Oh, god, she’s going to come. But, no. She can’t. Focus. Jesus Christ. She’s watching. Anna sees the blonde’s shadow casting into the hallway. Does it bother Elsa that she’s brought home a man? Does it bother Elsa that she’s fucking someone so loudly? Does it bother Elsa in the way Anna wants it to? She wants to know._

_That’s why she needs Elsa to hear this._

_“God, yes!”_

_He pulls back, mesmerized. “Holy fuck…” he pants between each thrust. “You’re… incredible.”_

_Anna forces herself to focus. Is Elsa watching? If she isn’t, then there wouldn’t be a point. She pulls Christopher closer, making him bite into her neck as she looks to the end of the hallway._

_Yes._

_At those brilliant, blue eyes._

_A corner of Anna’s lips arches upwards, her lower face hidden behind the man’s shoulder. Teal eyes light up when she connects with deep cerulean. “Don’t stop.” She says to the man, but she’s looking at Elsa._

_And Elsa is looking back. Her blonde head is poking out from her door, and she’s staring. Eyes still. Just watching._

_“I want you,” Anna whispers into the man’s ear. But her eyes remain on Elsa._

_Christopher thrusts harder. Anna moans louder. Elsa’s eyes widen._

_And then Anna faces the woman directly, “… so much.”_

_Elsa panics and slams her door shut._

* * *

“Just me.” Anna repeats.

Elsa nods. She goes on easing those scratches on her back. Anna’s pretty sure that she’s bleeding a little, and she’s not looking forward to feeling the stinging pain when she hits the shower, but, _god,_ it feels so good. Her eyelids just fall shut as she takes in the sensations; Elsa’s gentle fingers dancing gingerly along her skin. There’s often a distinct coldness to Elsa’s touch that soothes her – like it cools her down, lowers the heat that’s always boiling at the very pit of her core.

Oh, what is she bullshitting about – she just likes it when Elsa touches her willingly.

“Elsa…” it comes out in a quiet hum. She barely even says the word, but she knows that Elsa can hear her. Because the next thing the blonde does is she slips a thigh between Anna’s legs. But Elsa isn’t like Anna. She lacks the confidence in this – an aspect that the redhead adores. She enjoys how Elsa always does it so slowly, timidly – like she’s asking for permission. Anna cherishes the moments when the blonde shows the tiniest hint of desire, in contrast to the moments she shows hesitation. 

Because it is through these moments that Anna can see Elsa, truly, wholeheartedly wanting _her._

Anna thrives on that.

_(Being wanted.)_

“God _, Elsa_ …” Anna grinds herself against the blonde’s thigh. Her heat, Elsa’s cold touch, the _thought_ of Elsa reciprocating – it’s incredible. Anna grips onto the blonde’s hips and bucks more roughly at her skin, her own arousal coating Elsa’s thigh with a slight wetness as she reaches her edge. Anna hides in the crook of Elsa’s neck, breathing in the scent of her hair as her hips grind frenziedly, now more eager than ever to reach her climax because Elsa’s still stroking her back, still holding her tight, whispering sweet _nothings_ into her ear—

“Shh… it’s okay, Anna.”

 _Fuck._ Elsa’s just. Her _voice—_

“I’ve got you.”

Every single time it happens so quickly. Anna really, _really_ can’t understand why – Elsa’s just… Tears stream down her cheeks, a burst of warmth envelops her chest. When it ends, Anna breaks into a series of tiny, weak sobs, but she’s not sure if it’s because of her orgasm or – _hm,_ what else can it possibly be? But really, who cares. It doesn’t matter.

_(Close your eyes.)_

Nothing matters.

* * *

_Anna gets ready for work the next day, browsing through her collection in her walk-in closet. She’s caught in a minor conundrum because she can’t decide between a pair of black dress pants or a green dress to match her black blouse. Hmm. How very problematic. Should she wear a necklace? Anna looks in the mirror; the angry bitemarks from the guy last night are glaringly obvious – if she wears a necklace it’ll just draw more attention at the wounds._

_Ugh._

_She hates when they do that, Anna thinks as she runs her fingers along the little red holes. They still kind of hurt too. But, oh, what right does she have to complain? She was the one encouraging him, telling him not to stop. And it wasn’t like he was bad. What a turn of events. Despite using him as a prop, he was actually quite satisfying. Besides, if getting a few scars on her body means she can get what she wants—_

_Knock knock_

_—Anna smirks._

_(So, so easy.)_

_She makes her way out of her walk-in closet. Why, of course she knows she’s not wearing pants. Of course she knows she’s clad in just her underwear and a barely-buttoned up dress shirt. Loose, red hair falls over her shoulders and she brushes strands of it to the side with the back of her hand. “What is it?” She asks as coldly as possible._

_There’s no immediate response. Elsa’s clearly looking away because of Anna’s attire – or lack thereof. So the redhead is the one to speak up. She shifts her gaze and she sees Elsa holding onto a bag – the same bag she used when she moved in several days ago. Huh, so she’s finally giving in? Finally can’t stand the strain in this ‘relationship’? Finally leaving her? No biggie._

_“You’re leaving.”_

_Elsa hesitates. A moment. And then she nods._

_A heavy silence fills the room and Anna takes a deep breath, breaking the tension. “I’m sorry it’s come to this,” she states, sounding like she’s broken. Like she’s clinging onto her lifeline. Like this breakup is affecting her. Wait. Is it supposed to sound like a breakup? Did she plan to make it sound like one? Anna’s just improvising, really._

_The blonde doesn’t answer. Her eyes are still on the floor._

_“W-will you let me drive you… one more time?” her voice shakes. It’s all coming so naturally. Man, she’s good at this. “I-I – we’ll never need to see each other again. I won’t call you. You don’t need to talk to me on the way – just…” she pauses, takes a tiny step forward, “… please let me do this for you one last time. One more time before I let you g—”_

_She doesn’t get to finish. In an instant, Elsa has dropped her bag, dashing forward, throwing her body at the shorter woman with so much force the latter nearly falls onto her back. “No,” Elsa murmurs. “Please, no.”_

_It’s a natural reaction. Anna wraps her arms around the blonde’s waist, holding onto her tightly. “Elsa…” she speaks into the woman’s shoulder. Guided by a strange force, Anna’s body moves on autopilot. She starts stepping backwards until she lands on her bed with Elsa falling right on top of her. Odd – this woman’s weight. It’s so… soft. Her frail body is nothing like Christopher’s from last night. The fact that she’s two times smaller than the man is a primary reason, but. Like. Anna doesn’t know how to explain. Elsa’s body is light – fleeting. Like powdered snow. The thought of it is beautiful, but it gives Anna more so the reason to hold her close. “You need to let me go.”_

(Why did she say that, then?)

_Elsa pulls back. Only slightly, though. Because their foreheads are still touching. She shakes her head. “I can’t.”_

_Is she crying? Anna sees tears in the woman’s eyes. Why would she cry? Why cry for something so… so ridiculous? So absurd? So egregious? Anna’s confused. She doesn’t understand. Doesn’t want to understand—_

_“Anna. What I need - it's…” Elsa leans down. Their lips touch._

_—not even when she feels tears of her own streaming down her face._

* * *

Anna jolts back to her senses. She tries to gasp for air, but what comes out instead is a soft moan. Her concept of time and space is compromised by Elsa’s touch – who is still kissing her. Pink, luscious lips attached to her neck. Shoulder. Collarbone. Back to the lips. _Sucks_ tenderly. God. Why is she so fucking gentle? Why does she keep doing these things that makes Anna long for more? Why can’t this burning pit in her gut be extinguished?!

It pisses her off. It’s so aggravating.

_(Be in control. Take back the control.)_

“On your stomach.” Anna suddenly grunts. She opens her eyes to meet large, cerulean blues. Like she’s looking at the sky. How poetic.

Elsa’s mouth hangs open, clearly shocked.

The redhead sits up to give Elsa the room to move, but when she does, there is a distinct longingness in the woman’s eyes. Does she crave contact that much? She ignores it, though. “I said,” her voice is strict. Unforgiving. “On your stomach.”

Elsa’s thin brows are creased together, fear written all over her round eyes. She tugs onto her bottom lip and does as she is told, turning around to lie on her stomach. The bed creaks lightly when she moves, the sheets surrounding her dip at her weight. Anna drinks in the sight, capturing every minute detail in the back of her mind so that she may replay this if she were to lose grip of this woman. It’s important. It’s too beautiful. She can’t lose this. Can’t forget. Her hands glide up the woman’s creamy legs, stopping at her buttocks to give a squeeze. Elsa inhales sharply, but she largely remains quiet. The woman’s hands are back to that pillow she’s resting on, fingers digging into the softness for comfort. Or safety. Whatever.

But Anna is a greedy woman. She wants to hear more. She needs Elsa to react. Give her more. _Anything._ As long as it’s from Elsa, she’ll be content.

She reaches over to the nightstand by the bed, pulling open the drawer. 

The clattering sound makes Elsa jolt. “Wait, Anna…” the blonde gathers enough courage to actually speak up this time, “I-I don’t want to—”

But Anna interrupts her. She places a hand onto Elsa’s back, pressing her weight on the woman. “But I do.” She says firmly.

Silence again. Those simple words seem to have frozen the woman. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t try resisting. Not even a flinch in her muscles. It’s like she’s submitting herself, completely.

Anna takes the opportunity to put on the toy, buckling on the straps like it’s second nature. It doesn’t take long – she’s so used to it by now – and she’s already probing the tip at Elsa’s opening.

“Oh – _nnn!_ _A-Anna…!”_ the woman groans. She turns to hide her face in the pillow. Her arms slide above her head to scratch at the headboard.

“Up.” Anna taps Elsa’s hips. On cue, the woman raises them, and the redhead rubs the length along her slit, coating the toy with her wetness. She draws back for a second – just a second – to catch a glimpse at Elsa’s pink centre, glistening, fluttering, _inviting._ Anna wets her lips with her tongue, the residue of Elsa’s taste still lingering on its tip. She leans forward to plant a kiss on the blonde’s back, holds onto her hips, and _thrusts._

* * *

_Elsa’s muffled moans – they’re echoing, the sounds reverberating along the walls of Anna’s room. And Anna can’t get enough. Elsa wraps her legs around the redhead’s waist, giving her so much access, giving her so much encouragement to do it harder. The way the blonde’s arms are circled around Anna’s head. The way she hides in Anna’s neck. The way her voice is vibrating against her skin. So cute. She’s so fucking cute._

_“Please… please, Anna…!”_

_Anna ignores the woman’s pleas. She places her focus elsewhere – at her fingers, where they continue to pump relentlessly, roughly. She feels the burn in her arms. Her palm is cramping, but she pushes on – she can’t stop. Every time she curls her fingers and touches a particularly soft spot, Elsa’s breath hitches. Her fingers buried in Anna’s flaming red hair comb through the strands more frantically, to the point that her nails latch themselves onto Anna’s scalp. It’s almost as though the very notion of letting the redhead out of her grasp would break Elsa, Anna thinks. Or, at least she likes to believe. So she doesn’t resist. Anna lets Elsa dig her nails into her. She revels in the sensation – of Elsa’s teeth sinking into the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Of those slender legs wrapping ever so tightly around her waist. Of those hips bucking violently into her touch. Anna decides that everything Elsa does brings her a sense of relief. It’s kind of profound, so to speak._

_“Aaahh…!” Elsa throws her head back, voice high and broken when Anna pushes a bit deeper. The sound prompts the redhead to draw back a little to look at her. It’s incredible – hearing her name said like that. Makes an electric current run down her spine. It’s even more incredible to see the woman’s half-lidded eyes, flushed cheeks, and those irresistible, bruised lips. The temptation is too much – Anna crushes her mouth into Elsa’s, plunging her tongue deep into the woman’s throat. Her fingers move faster, Elsa’s legs spread wider – her ankles locking at the small of the redhead’s back – and she pulls Anna closer, much closer._

(Their bodies have _melted_ together. Inseparable.)

_In response, Anna finally, finally gives the blonde what she’s been begging for. She curls her fingers again, only this time, she runs her thumb along Elsa’s throbbing clit. Not directly touching it, but just the area surrounding it. Immediately, Elsa shrieks, screaming—“ANNA…! P-please… I need—I need to—”_

_“Don’t.” Anna warns, “… not yet.” The pads of her fingers continue to tease the silky flesh inside Elsa, the action making the woman beneath writhe and writhe – like a fish on land, gasping for its last breath. Not a very fitting comparison, considering how beautiful Elsa is, Anna thinks as she watches the woman squirm in anguish. She’s got to give it to Elsa though; to be able to hold back even though Anna’s been fucking her for… how long has it been? Quite a while, actually. Anna’s already late to work and the hospital visiting hours are probably already underway._

_Not that either matters anymore, she muses idly._

_Anna then releases Elsa’s lips, trailing her kisses downwards. But upon leaving Elsa’s embrace, the woman tenses. “N-no, don’t—!” she moans, and in a desperate attempt to hold Anna close, she tries to pull the smaller woman back up, so that they may reconnect their lips. “Please, don’t let go…” is what she begs when Anna’s hovering above her breasts._

_And, shit. That one went straight into Anna’s heart. It triggers, intensifies the desire within. Anna’s inner brows arch upwards and every fibre of her being screams at her to give the blonde the most reassuring smile she can muster. So that Elsa can feel safe. Feel protected. And she does. She does, and then she holds onto Elsa’s hand with her free one, intertwining their fingers. Anna brings the blonde’s hand to her mouth and kisses it. She moves to kiss the spot between Elsa’s collarbones, descending slowly to her sternum, to a pink, hardened nipple. Down, down – kisses her navel, lower – her chin brushing over the light platinum curls, and she stops at the woman’s centre._

_Her fingers are still wrapped in Elsa’s tight muscles, but she has halted the movement for a while, so when she starts stroking at Elsa again, the reaction is… how should she put it? Exhilarating? Almost enchanting, actually. Because Elsa’s rocking along, moving with her rhythm. Matching her speed. It's like they're dancing. Anna thinks that they're complimenting each other so well, it doesn't make sense for them not to fuck._

_But by the gods, Elsa is fucking tight. Anna angles her digits, coiling them when she finds that certain, high-strung nerve. Anna breathes against Elsa’s throbbing clit, peeking out from within those pink folds. She glances up to see the woman far too distracted; her vision is hazy, her hair a mess, her breath laboured. The sight of this broken woman prompts Anna to bear yet another smirk; it makes her lean in, wrap her lips around the engorged nub and suck—_

_“Uhnn…! Aahhn—ANNA!”_

_Elsa’s body jerks violently and she shatters. The smirk twists into a full-on grin – to know that she’s the reason that Elsa’s coming so damn hard. The way the woman’s abdomen ripples, the way her breasts are bouncing as she shakes, just. God, fuck, Elsa’s walls are clenching so hard onto her fingers she finds it difficult to continue with her thrusting. Anna resorts to just curling them more, caressing that soft, sensitive spot inside._

_But then, even Anna can tell that it’s too much. Elsa throws her arms over her eyes. Her entire body is taut; she wants to move away from Anna’s touch, but she’s much too overwhelmed. She wants to scream, but her voice is caught in her throat – all the sounds that she can make are quiet sobs. Jesus. So fucking cute. So beautiful._

_“Elsa,” she calls involuntarily, her voice so gentle she surprises even herself._

_The woman gasps for air. Skin glistening in a layer of sweat, her chest heaves rapidly, and she peeks out of the cracks between her arms._

_Anna smiles. At this point, she isn’t sure if she’s doing it genuinely. What she does know, however, is that when she smiles, Elsa’s body grows significantly less stiff. Anna crawls upwards so that their faces are parallel. “Tell me what you need.”_

_Elsa remains still for a moment, and in that moment, Anna believes that she’s gathering the right words for a suitable answer. Or – just one that would satisfy herself. Probably. With tired, trembling hands, she reaches up to touch Anna’s face. “I… n-need…” she hiccups, “I just know that I-I… don’t… want to let this go.”_

_Anna lets out a sigh of relief she doesn’t know she’s been holding in. And the release is so, so comforting. Orgasmic, even. Like a heavy weight has been lifted off her chest, and she can finally soar free._

_“Nor do I,” is what she says in confidence, before pressing her lips into Elsa’s once more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this thing three times because dark!anna was just not having it – or it’s just that hard to be mean to poor little elsa. It also became apparent that I absolutely have to split the last part into two because it was getting much too heavy even for me. Not sure if that's a good/bad thing for you guys. Though I am sorry if you were looking forward to the conclusion :p
> 
> Anyway, I would like to use this space to thank everyone for their feedback. Really - just the tiniest comment/kudo/bookmark is enough of a reason for me to write on :')


	3. amor

The headboard slams against the wall, the legs of the bed creak dangerously, and Anna’s back _burns_ each time she so much as inches forward. A bead of sweat rolls down her forehead, stopping at her brow. She dips her head; the droplet falls onto Elsa’s back like a single raindrop, shattering into tiny pieces and it slides up the woman’s angled body. Anna watches it with fascination. The way it just glides up that pale, flawless back, up to Elsa’s perfectly sculpted shoulder blades, but it eventually disappears into the tousled platinum strands of the woman’s hair. Anna’s eyes continue to travel upwards, stopping only to marvel at how desperately Elsa’s hugging that pillow, biting onto it to suppress her noises.

But doesn’t she understand? All this time – Anna’s been asking her to _scream for her._ Does she not get it, or is she deliberately not listening? God, _fuck._

Anna jerks forward in a sudden, abrupt thrust, breaking out of the steady rhythm.

Elsa tosses her head up as much as her position allows, and cries out in that split second. Yet, she still seeks comfort in that pillow. She quickly ducks her head, hiding once more in the softness where she continues to _bite._

What the fuck. Anna’s giving it her all and _this_ is the mediocre reaction she’s getting? No – fuck. Fuck this. She braces herself. Nudges Elsa’s legs further apart. Leans her weight onto the woman’s back. Nuzzles herself in Elsa’s neck. And then she just _pounds._

“Mmn _…_ aahh! _”_ A scream. Finally.

Anna does it again. _Harder._ Another scream. _More._ A hand claws at Elsa’s hip to keep her in place, the other wanders up to grab a full breast. Her fingers crawl to its peak, finding the hardened nipple, and she just _pinches—_

 _“_ W-wait…! _Anna—”_ Elsa’s voice cuts off in a croaked cry. She tries – _actually_ tries to crawl away, but Anna’s weight prevents her from escaping.

_(How dare you.)_

The very act of Elsa attempting something so absurd ignites a spark within the redhead. She isn’t certain whether it’s anger or frustration or… sadness? Whatever. She doesn’t care. Her worries are translated into an insatiable need to drive the toy _deep_ into the woman. Harder, _more,_ until she can’t go any further. Elsa’s walls are so tight, so wet, and they’re _spasming,_ like they’re begging for Anna to stop, to _go on._ Very contradicting. Just as Anna’s body is feeling. Because her lungs are on fire, her muscles are sore, and everything is so hot, _so hot._ Sweat continues to cling onto her forehead, and the entirety of her body is covered in a gross stickiness. But Elsa’s body. _Ohh, man._ The woman is sweating as well, but she is cold to the touch. It’s part of the reason Anna is leaning so much into her. The coolness that Elsa exudes penetrates right into Anna’s gut, and she is so grateful for it. She trails hungry kisses up the woman’s neck, licking away the saltiness at her skin, and bites at her reddened earlobe.

Elsa, in all her efforts, turns her head to give Anna more access. So that their eyes can meet, if only just slightly.

Teal and cerulean collide. Anna loses concentration for a second, and it is only then she realizes that she herself is moaning – because, _god,_ she’s so close. All this time, she’s been so focused on Elsa and _only_ Elsa, she’s forgotten about herself. At each thrust, the end of the toy grinds against her own centre, sending sparks behind her eyes. Each time it happens, her core _throbs_ for more. And, in turn, the only way to alleviate this aching feeling is to thrust forward. She doesn’t know how else.

“A-Anna…” Elsa calls to her in that gentle, gentle voice. It goes against everything. The redhead is being so rough, but Elsa’s still so passive. Anna’s clearly hurting her, isn’t she?! Why – why doesn’t Elsa _fight back?!_

* * *

_In the days that follow, Anna can’t stop touching her. Elsa, likewise, doesn’t resist those touches. At home, in the restaurants, in the car. Anna is as relentless as Elsa is compliant. Their relationship is wholly unnatural, yet it certainly feels comfortable. At least, for the time being. So it’s no wonder that Anna senses a sort of missing piece to this puzzling bond._

_The thing is, they never talk. They don’t give each other the opportunity to converse, nor do they truly want to, it seems._

_Because what they seek within each other is, quite simply, touch._

_Anna is perfectly content with how easy it is for her to slip into the shower when Elsa’s occupying it. Elsa, just as much, shows no signs of hesitation when Anna presses her against the wall, taking her until the water runs cold. In fact, she revels in it. She lets Anna do it._

_Because this is all that they need._

(Just touch.)

_So, why does she feel so sick, so in need to vomit when Elsa texts her an, “I need you,” in the middle of the day? The simplicity of the message ironically carries so much urgency, and it makes Anna drop everything that she’s doing at work. She actually tells Weselton to stop talking – “The nerve of you!” he shouts as she bolts out of the door to her car – and she gasses it so hard she’s pretty sure she’ll get a speeding ticket in her mail._

_When she reaches the hospital, Elsa’s already standing outside. Anna pulls up to her, and Elsa immediately gets in._

_“Please. I want to get out of here,” she mutters with her head down._

_The vulnerability in Elsa’s voice makes Anna’s chest burn more. It makes her feel even more nauseous, if that’s even possible. Because Anna’s never heard her speak like that, not when they’re in bed – not even when Elsa is completely pinned down. Anna shoves the thoughts to the side and does as she is told without a word of complaint._

_And she just drives. There is no music. The radio isn’t on. The route that Anna takes is far from the busy streets, and so the number of cars and pedestrians is minimal. The modest houses of the suburban area all whip by in a blur. Trees, people, houses – everything that surrounds them – they’re nonexistent. The silence is all that they know. Anna drives and drives until finally, Elsa reaches over, a trembling hand rests on her thigh. And it’s – it’s a chemical reaction. That’s legitimately the only explanation. Heat shoots down to her centre as fast as her breath hitches. Ever drove while high? Well, it feels exactly like that. Her mind goes haywire and she is tunnel-visioned. She needs to stop the car, or she’s probably going to kill the both of them. Anna searches for the nearest place to stop – anything — and she chooses the parking lot of some local library in the area. Honestly, she doesn’t even care if they do it in the public or even in front of children at this point, but she does find a shaded spot beneath some trees, thank god. That’s hidden enough, right?_

_She backs her car into the space effortlessly, stops the engine, and without saying anything more, pulls Elsa over to her seat. The blonde, in a similar rush, straddles Anna and attacks her mouth. To her credit, Anna actually refrains from tearing the woman’s clothes off right away. She runs her hands up Elsa’s thighs, hiking the loose fabric of the long chiffon skirt up, up until she reaches her bottom and then she squeezes._

_“Mmn…!” Elsa moans into the kiss. She grinds her hips. Her centre is so hot. So fucking hot._

_Anna bites into the blonde’s lower lip to suppress an embarrassingly guttural sound that escapes her throat. Elsa’s arms are circled around her head, messing up the updo that she’s spent a mighty second putting up this morning. Oh well. Anna does notice that Elsa seems to like her better with her hair down, anyway. But what gets her is the fact that there isn’t enough room in the car. God damn it. There’s only so much space Elsa can use to move – it’s so restricting. Anna reluctantly lets go of Elsa’s ass and reaches to adjust the seat, lowering the back and extending it as far as possible from the steering wheel. If she had known that Elsa was so horny today, she would’ve driven the Bentley. Not the stupid, tiny-ass 911. Jesus fucking Christ._

_Elsa takes advantage of the new angle, now technically pinning the redhead down, and pops open the buttons of the shirt. Anna’s wearing a forest green ribbon around her collar today, and it appears that Elsa likes the look of that as well, because she just leaves it be; she continues to unbutton that blouse, lower and lower, and she stops at the sight of Anna’s cleavage._

_The woman in question, thoroughly distracted by Elsa’s gentle touch, doesn’t even notice that she has pulled away. Elsa’s just looking at her; cheeks tinted crimson, lips parted, and pupils dilated. It is criminal how atrociously hot this woman looks. It does things to Anna, and she’s not sure if she’s too comfortable with that. Elsa breaks her chain of thoughts, however, when she starts removing her own shirt. She gives herself some space to slip out of her dress, tilting forward, as if making a statement to Anna that her tits are huge or whatever. Anna chews on her lip. She shouldn’t be angry at this – this is Elsa’s first strip tease, is it not?_

_“Anna,” Elsa whispers, “Touch me.”_

_It’s like a remote control. Or, just, Anna is getting remotely controlled. She shifts a little, moves a hand down between her legs and brushes Elsa’s laced panties to the side. When she feels those wet, velvety walls just sucking her fingers in, Anna can’t fight back the moan. In response, Elsa grabs her by the face and kisses her. She drives her hips forward, burying Anna’s fingers deep, and then she falls into an uncontrolled, frantic rhythm._

_By now, Anna knows all of Elsa’s sensitive spots, her erogenous zones – all the little nooks and crannies that make her sound slightly more erotic, and all the crevices that make her beg. So when she turns her head to press a kiss behind Elsa’s ear, the blonde’s body starts trembling._

_“Anna!” Elsa throws her head back, crying out the redhead’s name and she rocks forward, taking more of Anna’s fingers. “Uhnn… I’m—ohh…!”_

_Wow._

_Well, that happened way sooner than Anna wanted it to._

_The blonde’s legs quiver; the effect ripples through her body, and Anna nearly loses it when Elsa pulls her head down into her soft breasts. But she holds on. She waits for Elsa’s walls to finish clenching, for Elsa’s chest to stop heaving, and for Elsa to loosen her grip around her head before looking up to meet eyes._

_In the moments after they have sex, there usually isn’t much to say. It’s fine. They don’t need to._

(But Anna can’t help herself this one time.)

_“Elsa.” Anna bites her tongue upon calling her name. Regret is pulsing through her veins but the words keep coming, “... what happened?”_

(This relationship doesn’t work that way.)

_No response. So Anna searches. She looks deep into those cerulean eyes, and Anna is drawn to press her lips at Elsa’s eyelids. She lingers for a short while, and then hot tears come streaming down. Anna takes the liberty to kiss them away – a rather tender and sickening act, yes, but she can’t help it. She really… really can’t help it. She can’t help it either when her arms just move to circle around Elsa’s tiny body. A sob breaks out from the blonde. Elsa leans in, head buried in Anna’s shoulder and she just lets herself be held._

_Anna takes a moment to even out her breath. Takes in her surroundings. Watches as people walk in and out of the library. How they make their way towards their cars, drive off, and tend to their own businesses. The fact that they do not realize Anna Arendelle is right here, having sex with her ex-business partner’s wife is quite funny. She runs her fingers through Elsa’s hair, careful so as to not ruin the braid that is already falling apart._

_Elsa sighs at her touch, shudders a little when she breathes. Her post coital haze finally subsiding, she moves a hand up to caress Anna’s cheek. When the redhead leans into her touch, Elsa presses a kiss on the bump of Anna’s collarbone._

_And Anna, in response, kisses the woman’s temple, holding her lips there._

_But then slowly – very, very gently, Elsa pulls back. Because she hates being devoid of contact. Anna knows – this woman thrives on being close. Now, she is moving away, all on her own. Then there’s the fact that she’s hesitating to look Anna directly in the eye, and the subtlety in the blonde’s actions (plus the fact that Elsa’s the one to initiate sex) worries Anna._

_“Hans…” she begins._

_Anna’s mouth goes dry._

_“… he was conscious for a little bit.”_

_Wait. Wait — this is too fast. Stop—_

_“He spoke to me.”_

_Oh god. What did he tell her? Did he manage to break it to her? That Anna is the one responsible for his accident? Or is Elsa the one to talk? Did she tell him that she’s sleeping with the person who basically took everything away from him? That this villainous, power-hungry woman and his wife are having an affair? Shit. Her heart is beating so fast. Can Elsa hear it? Maybe not – but she can probably feel it. Shit. Shit. She needs to calm down. Just stop. Stop thinking for a second. What would Elsa think of her? Anna searches and searches – in the many flecks of blue in those brilliant eyes. Maybe she can find the answer this way without Elsa having to tell her. Maybe she will be better prepared that way. Maybe Elsa won’t hate her._

_No. That – that would never happen. Just… stop. Shut up._

(Will Elsa ever look at her the same way?)

_No._

(No, no, no, no. Don’t think that way, Anna Arendelle.)

_“… what did he say?”_

_Fucking hell._

_Why did she ask that? Why the fuck did she just – Jesus. Anna wants suffering, doesn’t she? Dig herself a grave, drown herself in guilt—_

(Guilt?)

_—because she’s messed up. She thinks she can handle this, thinks everything belongs to her. What has it all come to?_

_There is a pregnant moment of nothingness. Just silence. The chirping of the birds, the ruffling of the leaves from outside – everything is muted._

_And then Elsa reaches for Anna’s hand, guiding it to her heart and locks it there. She pauses to bump her forehead against Anna’s._

_Takes a deep breath._

_“... He told me that he loves me.”_

* * *

It _hurts._ It hurts so much. Anna’s entire body is aching. It hurts to even move, but she can’t stop. Some fucked up, irrational part of her mind tells her that if she doesn’t continue, if she stops _fucking_ , Elsa will leave.

After all, that’s what this relationship is, right? It’s what binds them together. This physicality.

She knows, Elsa knows.

_(Maybe.)_

It’s an unspoken agreement.

This is what she wants, isn’t it? Anna always gets what she wants. And she has Elsa. _She has her._

So just, please. Just for a bit more.

“E-Elsa…” Anna croaks. She’s running on fumes. Every breath she takes incinerates her lungs. Her vision is hazy. She’s… she’s about to pass out. There’s this distinct, piercing white noise ringing in her ears. And – _god,_ it hurts. The pain is drilling right into her brain, it seems. This happens when she spends too long at the gym. Don’t get her wrong though, she is really athletic; but if anyone can go on like this at _this_ pace _and_ strength for over… god, she doesn’t even know how long it’s been. The sheets are soiled by their sweat – or whatever other kind of liquid that secretes out of human bodies; her movements are sloppy. Elsa’s cries have died down to being weak, _dry_ wheezes _._ There is no weight in her voice. At this point, Anna feels like she’s just fucking a ragdoll, the only exception being how Elsa’s still barely managing to lift her hips up.

But this isn’t what Anna wants.

She holds back a sob. Hides in Elsa’s neck. Circles her arms around Elsa’s chest. “Elsa, I-I…”

What.

_(What does she want? What more can she possibly take from this woman?)_

Anna swallows the lump down her throat. God, it’s painful. Her throat feels like sandpaper. She wants to come. She _doesn’t_ want to come. She wants this pain to stop. She _doesn’t_ want this pain to stop. Her clit grinds into the toy at every thrust, and it really, _really_ fucking hurts each time. It’s like wildfire – her body is already burnt to a crisp, but a tiny seedling is still somewhere in the pile of ashes, longing to survive. That’s just fucked up. She’s so obsessed with control, so obsessed with maintaining a strong front – so _against_ showing vulnerability, that she would rather _die_ than to let loose. She’s just so full of contradictions, isn’t she? Telling Elsa to ‘let loose’, but here Anna is, resisting it with her life. The only form of solace she can seem to find is by clinging onto Elsa.

“God, _Elsa_ —I c-can’t…!”

“Ah—Anna…” is the response that follows. Elsa moves her hands down to Anna’s at her chest. Holds onto her tight. She turns her head, as much as she can, “L-let me… I want to look at you…”

In the most dramatic, almost exaggerated fashion, Anna fights through her aching muscles and pulls back – beads of sweat clinging onto her bangs sprinkle onto Elsa’s glistening, damp body. And Elsa, being ever so cooperative, pushes herself to roll over to lie on her back. Anna has every reason to plunge the toy back into Elsa, to continue fucking her. To make this last. But the larger, more _irrational_ part of her wants something else.

The physicality — _yes_ , but something beyond it _._ Something beyond the pleasure and most definitely the pain that she feels at her centre.

_(Something…)_

There are no words. Elsa pulls her down and holds her. Sticky, trembling arms circle around her body, and Anna realizes she’s trapped in the gentlest, safest, _warmest_ embrace. The feeling is so strange – as though she’s melting. Simply by leaning on Elsa’s shoulder like this – it’s otherworldly. This comfortable warmth once again overwhelms her when Elsa presses a kiss on her cheek. Anna shirks; she turns to look at the blonde, and she’s – she’s just…

“Anna.”

The redhead’s eyelids flutter. Thick, dark lashes batting in wonderment as she waits for Elsa to continue.

But Elsa just stares, blue orbs twinkling in spite of the darkness. And then, to Anna’s surprise and complete bewilderment, Elsa smiles. Anna feels dizzy, thinks her heart has stopped, thinks time has held her in place.

 _I haven’t seen you smile like this for so long,_ she wants to say. But what happens instead is that she just stares. Astounded. The words are knocked out of her mouth.

With what little strength she has, Elsa manages to scoot closer. Their foreheads and the tip of their noses touch. Elsa closes her eyes and inhales deeply. “I want you like this,” her voice comes out in a murmur, but it is dripping with a sweetness that makes Anna’s knees buckle. “… just a bit more.”

The air is thick with the smell of sex and she can’t escape the pain that’s still throbbing between her legs, but Anna nods. It hurts too much to think. She reaches to remove the strap on, tossing it off the bed, and tangles her legs with Elsa’s. The woman winces when her thigh brushes against her centre, clearly still hypersensitive, but Anna eases her by closing the distance between their lips. Elsa reciprocates in an instant, parting her mouth for the redhead and their kiss is slow, controlled. The urgency just moments prior has completely vanished, and Anna, still thoroughly confused, ignores how her head is spinning and decides to lose herself in the kiss.

_(Just a bit more.)_

* * *

_“Why?” Anna’s soft breath brushes against Elsa’s lips. Every so often, Anna would pause to suckle at Elsa’s delicate skin but never completely capture those swollen lips. She figures that it simply feels good – that is, just by touching Elsa._

_Her hand resting on Elsa’s breast just stays there, the light beating of the blonde’s heart serving as a steady metronome of sorts to keep her grounded. “Why do you tell me this?” She nuzzles her face in Elsa’s neck. Pushes the question a little further, “Why don’t you ever stop me?” And then, carefully, as if dealing with glass, she presses her lips around the base of Elsa’s neck, trailing soft kisses on the woman’s collarbone – out to her shoulder. “Elsa,” one more kiss, “... what are we?”_

_Elsa stiffens at each question she is asked, but she would relax at each kiss Anna gives her. Push and pull, push and pull. She lets her eyelids fall, turns her head a little to give Anna space to kiss. “We’re…”_

_Anna’s heart skips a beat. She isn’t sure if she’s ready to hear it._

_And Elsa seems to know. So she pulls back. She holds onto Anna’s cheeks to run circles on her skin with her thumbs. Then, the tiniest, smallest hint of a gentle, beautiful smile. Bright eyes accentuating the sheer allure of her features. She blinks, the many shades of blue twinkle under the afternoon sunlight, and Anna is mesmerized. Elsa runs the pad of her thumb just below Anna’s waterline, again and again. The ghost of that smile remains engraved in the back of Anna’s mind, and she finds it haunting. So inconsistent. A smile that creeps her out, yet it reassures her. Cool touches that comfort her, yet they scorch her skin. Elsa leans into her ear. Kisses Anna’s earlobe, and just breathes._

_It feels good. Elsa makes her feel so good. Every single thing that she does. But the more she feels from this woman, the more Anna can’t fight the growing, prickling irritation that is stabbing endlessly into heart. It’s suffocating her, like she’s being strangled by her own thoughts._

_The only form of relief she can get, the only means for her to breathe is to have Elsa in her grasp. To have this woman hold her. So Anna slips her hands up behind Elsa’s shoulders and pulls her close._

_“Stay.” Anna whispers._

_Elsa nods._

_But Anna never got an answer that day._

* * *

The pain between her legs has dulled into a numbing pulse. She’s still sensitive as hell and is out of breath, her muscles still hurt, but at least her body’s cooled down. Anna is aware of the fact that she’s on top of Elsa. She’s aware that Elsa’s stroking her back, gently running her fingers through her red hair. But Anna doesn’t know that she herself is doing the same thing. That she’s brushing her fingers along the long softness of those platinum blonde locks, admiring the literal, physical representation of starlight. Anna combs through Elsa’s hair, again and again, and she isn’t aware of this until Elsa closes her eyes for a bit. The windows to the sky shut briefly, and when Elsa opens them again, Anna becomes aware that they’ve been staring at each other for _god knows how long_. It… it’s the first time they’ve done this. Just locking eyes. No words. It’s a serene, quiet moment that neither has experienced. At least, not with each other.

Because in every aftermath, they just pass out. Sure, they’d hold each other, but that’s all. The physicality is all that there is. But now…

“Stay like this.” Elsa moves her hand up to cup Anna’s cheek, caressing the skin there with her thumb. 

It’s peaceful. It’s comfortable.

_(It’s warm.)_

“I’ll crush you,” is Anna’s quiet reply.

The blonde shakes her head, now circling her arms around Anna’s head. “You wouldn’t,” with a mild strength, she pulls Anna down so that their lips can touch. “You barely weigh anything.”

Again with that gentleness. Why? Why does Elsa do this to her?

A sigh. “Elsa...”

_(Oh?)_

Oh, no. She didn’t mean to say her name like that. Soft, quiet, _gentle._ She didn’t mean to. 

But with thin brows creased together in worry, Elsa’s waiting for her to go on. Looking at her as though she were the only thing in the world that matters. How can Anna ignore that? 

So she continues. “Why do you let me hurt you?” 

There’s no reaction. Not an immediate one, at least. Elsa’s still looking at her the same way, unchanging. Arms still wrapped securely around Anna’s frame, fingers still combing through her red hair. 

Does she not want to answer? Anna supposes it’s not that much of an issue. It’s not going to kill her. After all, they’ve come this far by barely talking. She’s got nothing to lose by staying ignorant. 

But then—

“You do the same,” Elsa suddenly starts, voice in a mere whisper. “You let me hurt you as well.”

… What? No, no she doesn’t. Why would Elsa say that? Hurt? Anna’s not hurting—no. No way. She has— _had_ this under control, didn’t she? Anna was the one who initiated this relationship. Anna’s the reason that Hans got into that accident. Anna’s the one who seduced Elsa during her weakest. 

Anna. 

It was all Anna. 

“What are you talking about?” she mutters. 

Elsa’s fingers find their way back to the scars that she’s left on Anna’s back. The uneven lines have scabbed, but that doesn’t make her touch any less gentle. “Just as you have asked me once,”

No. She doesn’t want to know anymore. Anna’s jaw clenches. She grits her teeth. 

“I want to know too.”

Anna looks away, eyes darting to the corner. 

“What are we,” Elsa leans in, closing the distance between their lips once more, “... to you?”

* * *

_It is a stroke of luck. Or bad luck, depending on how one interprets this. Anna would argue that it is luck, because then she can finally confess her sins. Finally tell somebody. Get this weight off her chest. It happens during the one time she decides to come into the hospital with Elsa, the one time her fucking impulse kicked in so that she’d answer ‘yes’ where she gets herself into this godsend of an opportunity._

_Of course, Anna knows that she’s the last person he wants to see. In fact, her being here probably only serves to speed up his death._

_She’s such a bitch._

_Why does she even bother, then? Is she incapable of letting go of her ego for a split second? Just let Elsa come in herself. Let them have their sweet, perhaps final moments together._

_Because… anytime, now._

(What an agony to wait.)

_He doesn’t have much time left._

_“She’s gone to talk to the doctor, if you’re wondering,” is what Anna says in the most nonchalant tone. She’s sitting on the chair next to his bed, a leg crossed over the other._

_The soft beeping of the ECG monitor along with the numbers on the screen that Anna is able to understand a little lets her know that his condition is steady. For now._

_But slowly, very slowly, when he starts focusing, when those light green eyes meet hers, there’s a slight change in the beeping sounds. It goes faster. If not just a little._

_Which is a good thing, the voice in her head reminds her. He recognizes her, she’s not monologuing. That’s good._

_Anna turns her attention to the screen. She pretends to be amused by the rising and falling of the numbers and the charts. Not that she can read them in detail. She also knows he can’t talk back. The EI is shoved deep into his throat; he’s hooked to countless wires and cords and such that keep his body functioning. Apparently, most of his internal organs have stopped working. The doctors say that it’s actually a miracle he’s still alive._

_Honestly, she should feel guilty. But something is wrong; there’s just… nothing. Anna feels nothing. It’s so strange, because she’s not a heartless person—no. She’s selfish, yes, but not evil. Anna heaves a sigh. The more she thinks about this, the more complicated it gets, the more her head hurts. Whatever. She doesn’t want to dwell any longer. This man’s as good as dead, anyway._

(Still.) 

_“... It was my fault, wasn’t it? That you got into the accident.” She shifts her attention back him, expecting a reply. But, oh. How chilling. Hans just stares. Eyes still—like they’re trying to convey anger._

_Anna herself scoffs, rolling her eyes. “That was a dumb question. Of course it was my fault.”_

_The beeping becomes louder._

_She gives him a second, picturing an entirely different scenario where he’s responding to her remarks. As if they were having a proper conversation._

_“I really am sorry, Hans.” Anna’s voice is quiet and devoid of the confidence that usually accompanies the speeches she shares with him in their meetings. Hm. Funny how they used to be closely associated. Funny how everything just went south. “I guess I just want to say that I didn’t mean for this to happen.”_

_The beeping sounds are constant. Anna glances out the room. Doctors and nurses, visitors and patients come and go, minding their own business. She realizes that the conversation between the two of them will never be heard by anyone._

_So Anna stands from the chair and approaches him._

_“Don’t take this personally,” she tells him in a soft voice. “Truly, I have nothing against you.”_

_A blink._

_“... but there’s something you have that I desperately, desperately want. Need, even.”_

_Another blink. This time, lost._

_“It’s not your company I’m after – which I’ll take good care of, by the way,” she says, shrugging. “I can start an acquisition. It’s not hard, with Elsa being the one to inherit everything.”_

_His eyes bulge._

_What a great segue, even though she’s just improvising. “Speaking of your wife, she really is something, isn’t she?” Anna steps closer, placing an arm over the headboard. “Beautiful, caring, smart. She’s a joy to be around, y’know?”_

_Hans’ fingers twitch, no matter how pointless it may be, it looks like he wants to reach for her._

_She sighs, leaning into him. “I tried to stop it. Really, I did. Cutting ties, ending our partnership—all just to avoid her.” Anna pauses to come closer, hot breath fanning at his unkempt sideburns. “It’s strange, though. When I want something, I always, always get it,” she whispers into his ear, “... and that includes your wife.”_

_This time, a distinct grunt comes from him. His entire body tenses – like he wants to get up. The beeping sounds have merged to a series of aggressive noises, akin to a distorted alarm._

_Anna steps back. “I’m sorry, Hans,” she reaches for the nurse-call button and heaves a deep sigh. “I’m sorry that I’ve fallen for her.”_

* * *

“Anna?”

She jumps a little, coming back to her senses. “Hmm?”

Elsa pushes a strand of red hair behind Anna’s ear. The sun is rising, the room is tinted in a light, orangey hue, and the colours around them grow warm, soft, _comforting._ Then, Elsa shakes her head. “Nothing.”

It stings her heart a little. The thought that Elsa may not want to know. Maybe the truth scares Elsa just as much. Maybe Elsa will leave her once she knows how Anna feels. These questions are eating away at her life, and Anna doesn’t know how much longer she can bear. She breathes in – the smell of Elsa’s hair, their sweat, and the aftermath of sex that cling onto their skin, flooding her senses. Anna’s body is still sore, her head pounds, and her mind is set ablaze. It feels like a fucking hangover. And with Elsa holding her close…

She wants her. She wants her so much.

But Anna resists. God, it breaks her to do it. She actually _pushes_ Elsa away and sits up, back against the woman. “I’m going to get ready for work,” she stands from the bed – wobbling a little.

“Anna, it’s five in the morning.”

“I know, I’m just,” getting consumed by guilt. No longer able to look her in the eye. Hurting from… _all of this._ “… In need of a shower.”

Bunch of excuses. Anna’s a coward; too afraid to take this relationship anywhere out of her comfort zone. Too scared to find out that Elsa doesn’t want the same thing she does. So before what’s left of them can be severed, Anna is perfectly happy with leaving things the way they are – no matter how imbalanced, no matter how confusing.

“You should get some rest,” Anna mutters as she heads into her bathroom, never looking Elsa in the eye when she speaks. Because it’s odd. This is the longest they’ve talked after sex. The most they’ve shown each other any form of affection.

That’s why it feels so weird. That’s why Anna doesn’t want to stay.

If she leaves during the highest point, then at least she can cherish the feeling. At least… because it has never truly ended, she can live with the illusion that it doesn’t have to.

* * *

_The day he dies, Elsa goes missing._

_Anna wasn’t there when it happened; in fact, she didn’t even know that he had died until hours later, when she reads a small tweet, “Southern Isles Corp. CEO Hans Westergaard succumbs to injuries. Died 11:03am. Age 31.”_

_Short and simple. A couple thousand retweets. The world goes on._

_Not Elsa’s though, and most certainly not her own._

_Once again, Anna drops everything she’s doing. She tells her secretary that she’ll be taking the day off – most likely the next, and that all meetings are to be postponed until further notice. Her secretary gives her a look, and it occurs to Anna that this person is probably the one spreading all the rumours. Not that it matters; Anna doesn’t care that she gets talked behind her back. All the gossips that have been circulating around – that she and Hans’ wife are always seen together, that they’re even living together. She ignores them easily, because who gives a shit. So what if they are having an affair? So what if they say that she’s seducing Elsa to acquire Southern Isles?_

_None of it is true. Anna’s not seducing Elsa for that reason. Seduce isn’t even the right word._

_Anna hops into her car and immediately starts calling Elsa. It doesn’t surprise her that the woman doesn’t pick up, and so she resorts to heading to places that Elsa might be._

_She isn’t at the hospital – the nurses tell her that Elsa’s long gone. Something about how she can’t bear being there alone._

_Then why didn’t she call her?! Anna gnaws at her lip, bringing the nail of her thumb to bite when her skin starts chafing._

_Anna checks Elsa and Hans’ house. Dead husband in mind, it only makes sense for Elsa to come here to seek comfort, right? To take in his scent, look at their old photos, live in their old memories. It’s a form of coping mechanism, is it not? Anna steps out of the car and heads towards the entrance. The front yard appearing poorly maintained, she thinks it’s fitting, as no one has been living here for weeks. Her gut feeling tells her that Elsa isn’t here, but Anna checks regardless. She bangs on the door for a good minute or two before the neighbouring old lady comes by and tells her that no one has been home for a while._

_Yeah, she knows, Anna wants to say, but she thanks the lady anyway._

_Anna thinks hard. Where else can Elsa possibly be?_

_She checks her phone. Just a bunch of texts from her secretary about the rescheduled meetings and whatnot. Anna ignores them and instead goes to her and Elsa’s history of messages. The most recent one is the simple 'I need you'. Anna doesn’t know how many times she’s read that on her idle time. Three words. Just three. But it’s enough to make her heart beat faster, to make her eyes feel hot, to make her breath hitch._

_Anna hugs the phone to her chest._

(Oh.)

_Anna gasps. She’s – she’s stupid. So, so, so fucking stupid. She’s been wrong this whole time. This isn’t where she will find Elsa – no, no way. Anna runs into her car and drives to where she knows she will find the woman._

(I need you too.)

_Once she’s home, she just knows. The moment she steps over the threshold at her entrance, the atmosphere shifts; the air becomes lighter, and everything just makes sense. Elsa’s heels are left at the door, and Anna has never been more relieved. For the sake of her heart that has been hammering painfully against her chest since reading the tweet, Anna heads up the stairs slowly. Give herself some time to even out her breath._

_The door to her room is left slightly ajar. Just a tiny crack, but it’s enough for her to see._

_Honestly, Anna could have broken into tears herself, right then and there._

_She swallows the choke that threatens to escape her throat. The heat in her eyes intensifies and her chest continues to strain. Anna crawls into her bed, lying beside the blonde whose back is against her._

_“Elsa,” Anna calls, as gently as she possibly can._

_Elsa curls herself tighter into a ball. Arms come up to hug herself as her body shivers._

_Anna’s jaw clenches. It’s an instinct; she places a hand on Elsa’s arm, hoping that some of the warmth in her skin can radiate all over Elsa’s colder body. When Elsa doesn’t resist, Anna takes the cue to come closer. She presses into the woman from behind, circling her arms carefully around Elsa’s tiny frame. Anna buries her face in the blonde’s hair, inhaling the scent she has grown to love. Her hands absently rub at Elsa’s biceps, hoping that this is enough to warm her up._

_Some time passes; the evening sky has grown dark, but neither moves. They just stay like that. Elsa’s shivering has stopped, and Anna thinks she has fallen asleep._

_But when Elsa’s hand slips up to hold onto hers, she knows that she’s wrong. When Elsa turns so that they’d be facing each other, Anna wants to kiss those tears away. Hold her forever. Not let her feel this way again, ever. She wants Elsa to know that she will shield her from the universe if she had to. She wants Elsa to know that she controls it. That Anna if so wishes, the universe will give it to her, and she will share it with Elsa. Anything. Everything. But more than any of that, Anna wants Elsa to know—_

_“I’ll always be here.”_

_Tears stream down when Elsa closes her eyes. Anna snuggles in, bumping her forehead against the woman’s. She, too, closes her eyes and tries to savour this. Before long, they fall asleep in each other’s embrace._

_“I—”_

_She vaguely remembers Elsa saying something, though._

* * *

The hot, scalding water hits Anna like a million bee stings. She winces for a long while before finally reaching to adjust the temperature. The scratches on her back are hurting as well, just as she has thought, but she shoves it aside. Anna leans forward, resting her head against the porcelain tiles of the wall. She lets the shower run, drowning herself out in the sounds of the water.

But then another sound disrupts her quiet moment. Anna turns around and – lo and behold – the sight of Elsa, standing in all her naked glory at the other end of the glass shower. The angry hickeys that scatter across her neck, shoulders, breasts, abdomen, thighs – _everywhere,_ basically – never fails to make Anna’s mouth dry.

It absolutely blows her mind, however, when Elsa moves in, trapping her against the wall. Anna, defenseless, just backs up. Trying her utter best to not look Elsa in the eye.

She’s too afraid.

Too afraid of change.

Too afraid to know that Elsa doesn’t see their relationship the same way she does.

Elsa is timid with her touches. She holds onto Anna’s hips, slips a thigh between the redhead’s legs and presses close. It makes Anna sigh, makes her eyes roll to the back of her head. She just relaxes as Elsa runs her skin along her own. The soreness from earlier now returning, but why the hell would Anna say no to this?

Why… why doesn’t she ever just—

“Elsa…”

The woman hums, hiding her face in Anna’s shoulder. Kisses and nibbles the skin there. So impossibly gentle.

Oh no. It’s making Anna feel so vulnerable. So weak. She can’t.

Anna grits her teeth. She grabs onto Elsa’s shoulders and pushes her away.

Elsa, clearly devastated, looks at her in silence. Eyes wide and mouth half-opened, like she’s ready to fight but is scared.

Also scared.

“This is what we are,” Anna hears her voice tremble, but she pushes on. “You wanted to know, didn’t you?”

Elsa is quiet.

“We turn to each other for sex because we’re fucked up. I fuck you because it’s—” she pauses, bites her lip again and taste blood. _God,_ just say it. Say it. At this point there’s nothing. _Nothing_ to hold onto _—_ “It’s the only way to convince myself that we’re more than… whatever the fuck _this_ is. And you,” Anna’s pretty sure she’s crying at this point, but the water from the shower is probably hiding it. “You let me do it because it gives you comfort, right? Because I’m a distraction. I’m just – just here to take your mind off of him.”

It’s Elsa’s turn to look away. She just stands there, arms crossed to hug herself.

“I have no right to want anything more than what we have, Elsa. The things I’ve done to—” Anna stops herself. “This is why I can’t answer you.”

“…”

The sounds of water dripping and tapping against their body, the walls, and the floor give them some semblance of calmness. It’s soothing. There’s a slight rhythm to the sounds, if one listens carefully.

“… you’re wrong.” Elsa suddenly starts.

Anna raises her head.

“He and you are two different people,” Elsa speaks louder.

The piercing gaze that Elsa is giving her makes her – it makes Anna forget how to breathe. It’s a reflex. She brings a hand up to her chest, clenching it.

At that, Elsa takes a step forward. “It’s why I’m still here. Why haven’t you realized?”

Anna stills.

“I don’t want to let this go,”

_(I just know that I don’t want to let this go.)_

“I want to look at you, if only you would let me.”

_(Let me look at you.)_

“Because I need you.”

_(I need you.)_

Anna closes her eyes. _Ah,_ she’s been such an idiot. All this time, the answer is right there. All this time, she’s been getting fucked over by guilt. But why? She’s never done anything wrong. If anything, the only ‘wrong’ is to fall for this woman. It’s not her fault. She can’t control it. It’s beyond her. Hans’ accident, Elsa’s response; his death, her answer.

To think that the universe is helping her. Sure, she always gets what she wants – but never in the way that she needs.

Anna lets Elsa come back in. Lets Elsa trap her again. She gives in.

And Elsa moves naturally, hiding herself in the redhead’s embrace. “I can’t answer you either, Anna.” She mumbles into her skin, “Because I don’t know what we are yet. But I...”

 _It's fine. You don't need to tell me,_ Anna wants to say.

Elsa draws back slightly to look at her. “... I just know that right now, Anna, I—”

She doesn't let her finish. 

_(I love you.)_

Anna just kisses her. 

_.  
._

**_fin._ **

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the original plan was to have anna be a straight up bitch, but like i said in my previous a/n, being mean to elsa is much too hard. so instead, we get this broken love story. i'm not sure i like the way it turned out, but at this point, i just want to get it done :p
> 
> thank you once more for all your feedback! it truly is a joy to look through them. i'll try my best to answer any questions, but for now, i'll just go ahead and work on another story. it'll be less graphic this time -- i need to take a break and write some fluff (which may or may not be at 40k words again).


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